


Undo Kyouko

by shishooter



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Emetophilia, F/F, Face-Sitting, Forced Consent, Medical Horror, Needles, Sexual Content, Torture, Vaginal Fisting, WAM, carving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 10:03:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5581525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shishooter/pseuds/shishooter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the start of the first game, Kyouko Kirigiri and her classmates made the decision to be locked inside their school for their own safety, not knowing that they brought the enemy inside.  Junko Enoshima will seize any moment for despair, including the moments before the procedure to erase Kirigiri's memories before the mutual killing of class 78.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undo Kyouko

**Author's Note:**

> Please take the tags seriously and don't read if you're not okay with them. This is not fluff. Kirigiri is most likely around 17 in canon at this point so it's tagged underage.

Lights flash in the air, and she hears only high pitched screaming. One of her classmates. She can’t tell which. She immediately ducks down, trying to find the source of the lights, the smoke, the noise.   
All she sees are her classmates. Some are missing and her eyes narrow. She’s holding her breath, just in case the smoke is toxic. It’s a jerk reaction. She’s picking everything apart, she’s figuring it out, but there’s a hand on her shoulder.

She turns. Bright blue eyes are inches from her own, tanned hands gripping a syringe that has already slipped between her neck and shoulder.

Kyouko Kirigiri has a second to feel something before she’s out. She feels fear, and she feels cold, then the floor rushes up to meet her.

 

They were all going to be safe. Kirigiri was anticipating it, looking forward to not having to carry a stun gun on her just to go get groceries. The death toll is rising along with the prices of everything. The news talks of nothing but the latest crime the masked cult commits. Murder. Murder. Murder. There’s no mystery to solve with them, it’s all in cold blood and no attempt is made to cover it up.

Kirigiri feels afraid of them, if she’s being honest. Detectives analyze human behavior, but they don’t act like humans. She’s unnerved but calm.

Kirigiri wanted to feel safe again.

Everything is a liquid blur, colors all too yellow and too blue. She has to pull herself out of a daze, forcing her mind to clarify the colored mess of a room she’s in.

She tries to move her hands, and in horror discovers that she can’t. She can’t move anything below her neck. She’s- paralyzed.

Kirigiri has had years of practice escaping bonds, wiggling wrists from ropes, picking locks with hairpins, snapping zip ties. She’s never had to escape while paralyzed.

She can feel her body, just as she left it. She’s fully clothed and strapped down by wrists, ankles, and neck. She’s uncomfortable on the stiff surface- like an ironing board.

The room is warm and all she can see is a pale blue ceiling and yellow-tinted lights. Slowly, she turns her head to the rest of the room, unexpectedly meeting a pair of hazel eyes.

“You’re-” a voice starts, sounding pained. It drops to a cautious whisper. “-awake.”

“Where am I?” Kirigiri’s voice isn’t as smooth or as clipped as she’d like.

She observes the owner of the cautious voice and hazel eyes. It’s one of her upperclassmen at Hope’s Peak Academy- Tsumiki Mikan.  The girl is wearing scrubs, nervously wringing her hands, alternating with twisting strands of her hair.

“C-close to the school.” Tsumiki smiles hesitantly. “We could walk there from here.”

Kirigiri narrows her eyes. “What happened?”

“I can answer that.” A far more familiar voice offers. Junko Enoshima is larger than life, powerful, radiating an aura that chills even stoic Kirigiri. “I kidnapped you and the rest of our class.”

She…. had thought that Junko had involvement in the despair inducing incident. Honestly, she hadn’t really thought that she was attached to SHSL Despar and the recent murders. She had almost believed the staff that said the students would be protected in the safe school building, but the threat was not neutralized. Not at all.

“Why?” Kirigiri’s voice is dry. Act first, react later. Emotions are a delay.

She can’t see Junko, but she can feel sharp nails press into her face, not hard enough to draw blood.

“Two reasons. One, I intent to practice brain surgery on you. Two, my friends were getting bored and I wanted them to loosen up. I have plans, Kyouko, but I don’t intend to tell you. I have places to be.” Junko says, scratching her nails down Kirigiri’s cheek. “This is Tsumiki. She’s going to have fun with you today.”

She just leaves after that, without another word. Tsumiki’s face has changed, the shy persona melted off. In the place of the shy girl stands something entirely different and unnerving.

“Noooo doctor around…” she muses, drawing out her vowels. “It’s just nurse and lovely, pretty patient. So sweet but so sick. You’re so sick.”

“No, I’m not.” It’s a long shot to try to manipulate the girl but Kirigiri’s going to try. “I’m healed already.”

Tsumiki smiles widely. “You have despair fever! So scary! If you’re very, very, super careful you might survive the treatment and be cured.”

“I’m already cured. There’s nothing wrong with me.” Kirigiri says, voice calm.

Tsumiki holds up a pair of scissors, rounded and safe. “We need to move quickly if we’re going to save you. I’d say- hold still! But you have a needle in your spine that’s already telling you to hold still.”

That’s how she’s paralyzed. Kirigiri pales, feeling light headed. She’s nauseous.

Tsumiki slowly unzips her boots, sliding them off of her feet. Kirigiri doesn’t react- she can’t react. Ignore her.

Tsumiki carefully cuts a long slit from the base of Kirigiri’s skirt, up her shirt, ending when the collar is split. It could have just been unzipped, but Kirigiri won’t react. She cuts through the sleeves of her shirt and jacket, slipping both off easily. Kirigiri is stripped to underwear, bra, and socks in a matter of moments. She still has her gloves, too- thank god.

Tsumiki has to undo her ankle bonds to slip off her socks, actions slow and sensual. Is this what being undressed by a lover would be like? No, Kirigiri thinks, of course not. Her heart is racing, thoughts screaming, but she can’t do anything besides spit, yell. She tries to spit but Tsumiki is far too far away.

She fastens Kirigiri’s ankle restraints again. Whatever chance the paralyzed girl might have had is gone.

Tsumiki pulls on gloves, a brighter blue than the ceiling. She caresses Kirigiri’s stomach, thighs, making a tiny mewling sound. Kirigiri’s heart is pounding, she should be calm. She’s been trained for years by her grandpa on how to resist torture, on how to escape, but she’s unnerved by this girl. A sweet nurse girl isn’t going to be Kirigiri’s undoing.

“Tell me about the surgery that Junko mentioned.” Kirigiri demands.

“Ma-a-a-ybe later!” Tsumiki’s gloved hands move up, digging her thumbs above Kirigiri’s armpits.

Kirigiri’s close enough to spit now, but misses the other girl’s face. Tsumiki’s expression doesn’t change, she just pulls off her shirt, dropping it on the floor.

“That’s unsanitary, Kyouko.” she says, expression distant. “Gross.”

Her bra is way too sexualized for a work day, Kirigiri realizes. It’s dark and lacey and has the effect of making her already large chest appear to be spilling over. Kirigiri isn’t a sexual person, but even she can see the appeal of such a body.

Tsumiki reaches out of Kirigiri’s vision, returning a long moment later with a large oral spreader, reminding Kirigiri distinctly of long-ago dentist trips. “Naughty patient.”

Kirigiri tries to bite, using the only weapon she has, but Tsumiki slaps her across the face with a surprising amount of strength. She blinks hard, lips pulling roughly apart, feeling close to splitting.

She runs a tongue over her lips, tasting blood. It’s not much but her bottom lip split and the stretching is painful. She can’t speak properly, but tries anyways.

Tsumiki just smiles. “I have a con-fe-ssion! Kyouko, I’m a nurse, but there are always rules for nurses. Don’t hurt the patient. Heal what’s ailing them. Stay professional.”

Kirigiri pales.

“But you’re not a patient! You’re a prisoner, and she said- she said- I can do what I want.” Tsumiki’s grin widens, as she dabs up the tiny drop of blood forming on Kirigiri’s lip. “I have soooo many ideas. I have so many fantasies!”

“Wait-” Kirigiri tries to say, but it comes out as a moan or a roar. Tsumiki brings the bloodied and gloved finger to her lips, slowly taking it in, tasting Kirigiri’s blood.

“My sweet, beautiful patient. My lovely prisoner. Let’s begin preparing you for your surgery!”

Tsumiki holds up the scissors again, gently cutting through Kirigiri’s bra straps. “What are you scared of, Kyouko?”

Kirigiri would like to think she isn’t scared of anything, but she is afraid now. She is very afraid.

Tsumiki leans over the other girl, clutching at broken straps. She pulls it off sharply, exposing Kirigiri, who closes her eyes. Just let it be over quickly. Just let it be done.

“Oh, wow.” Tsumiki’s gloved hands reach out, lightly caressing Kirigiri’s breasts. “So sick. I’ll need to fix all of this.”

She grabs roughly, and Kirigiri winces. She will not give the other girl the satisfaction of making noise. Even when Tsumiki twists her flesh, palms open and fingers spread. Tsumiki pinches next, hard, yanking and twisting her nipples.

She cries out, trying to pull away, but her body is frozen.

“You’re disgusting.” Tsumiki decides, abruptly releasing Kirigiri’s breasts. “Absolutely- gross!”

She pulls up the scissors again, removing underwear next, but then turning to Kirigiri’s gloves.

Detectives shouldn’t have weaknesses. They shouldn’t have insecurities, shouldn’t want fame, shouldn’t be seen or identified with any distinctions. Kirigiri has been told this since she was born, but she disobeyed to come to this damned school. She disobeyed again by- feeling. Her hands are an insecurity, her hands are- private.

When Tsumiki cuts through them and discards them on the surgery room floor Kirigiri feels fully exposed. She feels raw and more vulnerable than she ever has.

“Ah, incredible.” Tsumiki caresses Kirigiri’s hand. “You fear this being seen It looks awful, you know that? Repulsive.”

Kirigiri’s eyes close, she tries to steady her breathing. Calm. Cool. Collected.

“It looks like dried up chicken. It looks like spoiled soup. It looks disgusting. You repulse me, Kyouko Kirigiri.” Tsumiki says, voice cold and loud in the empty room. “You’re revolting. I feel like- throw-ing-up! Disgusting!”

She takes one of Kirigiri’s scarred fingers into her mouth, sucking it messily. Her tongue wraps around the skin, taking in the uneven texture, coating her hand with saliva. She bites down, hard, but not hard enough to break skin. She bites again and again, bruising Kirigiri’s hands in small stripes around fingers.

“You taste like rotting meat.” Tsumiki says, voice low and disappointed. “Sickening. Do you feel sick, Kyouko?”

Kirigiri’s eyes are tightly shut, she’s trying her best not to cry, but she’s so disoriented. She’s disoriented and this is awful.

Tsumiki wields a shiny scalpel, giggling as she presses it to the rough, thickly scarred skin of Kirigiri's hands. "I want to leave you something to remember me by."

It's painful, but not unbearably so. Kirigiri wishes she could writhe but she can just cry out, tears collecting in her eyes. 

The scalpel comes up red from her left hand, and the right takes longer. It's so painful and Kirigiri is powerless to stop it. 

"Silly Kyouko. I've had so much practice with this, I won't go too deep!" Tsumiki laughs.

She washes the wounds and bandages them lovingly immediately after, and the pain fades to a sharp sting. This kind of torture, Kirigiri's experienced before. She's not afraid. 

"Your blood is disgusting. Your hands look like raw meat now- isn't that just sickening?" Tsumiki asks.

Kirigiri shakes her head, the other girl's words cutting her more deeply than the damned scalpel. 

“Sickening! That reminds me- we can’t do a surgery on a full stomach. You’ve been a terrible, naughty patient, and we need to empty that stomach.” Tsumiki says brightly. She moves something, and the bed Kirigiri’s on starts leaning up slowly.

She’s in a position between sitting and laying down flat, and Tsumiki twists her head straight forward again.

“I like you here.” she whispers, kissing Kirigiri’s cheek with wet lips.

Kirigiri’s eyes are definitely wet. Her heart is pounding, but she still feels- like she’s in control of herself. Maybe.

Tsumiki wipes the crook of Kirigiri’s arm with something wet and cold, then feels out a vein. Kirigiri’s afraid of needles, wincing when Tsumiki slides one in her. She’s lightheaded but hopefully it’ll pass quickly.

“I have so many medications at my disposal. First!” Tsumiki attaches something to the IV line, out of Kirigiri’s line of vision. She can’t feel it enter her body, but Tsumiki holds her head steady, chin to chest.

After only a moment, her stomach turns violently, and she vomits. Her mouth spread, putrid liquid pours over her chest, pooling underneath her. She can’t move her legs together, the liquid drips down between them.

She’s definitely crying now, shaking her head against Tsumiki’s iron grip. Her stomach jerks again, a smaller but far more acidic rush burning through her body. The taste in her mouth is repulsive, she can’t spit it out. A third rush of almost pure stomach acid is coughed up, burning her chest and stomach, her thighs.

Her stomach feels sorer than it ever has, muscles feel like she’s just done a thousand crunches.

Tsumiki disconnects the medication from the IV. “Good job!”

Kirigiri is sobbing, shaking her head. Her skin is tingling already, like she’s starting to digest herself.

“Aw, you made a mess.” Tsumiki doesn’t seem to be affected by the scene. “We should wash your mouth out before we continue.”

She finds a cup of an orange liquid that smells sickly sweet, dumping it into Kirigiri’s open mouth. She cups her hand over Kirigiri’s stretched lips, grabbing a handful of pale hair to shake Kirigiri’s head with.

It’s an ineffective way to swish, and the taste is no welcome relief from the shockingly sour stomach acid. Kirigiri feels a new wave of nausea, not caused by the IV medication this time.

Tsumiki releases her hand, and the orange fluid drips down Kirigiri’s chin, onto her bare chest.

“What a good girl.” Tsumiki releases the handful of hair she pulled, smiling. “That’s one task down, but there’s a lot more I wanted to do with you. I’ll give you a choice, Kyouko. You can pick what comes next!”

Kirigiri’s skin is definitely starting to burn now. She tries again to struggle but it’s just as useless as before. She’s still paralyzed, and tears are drying on her face.

“Your first option.” Tsumiki traces a gloved finger through the mess on Kirigiri’s stomach. “We get this disgusting mess cleaned up, and prepare you for a surgery. We’ll-”

She leans forward, face dangerously close to Kirigiri’s burning skin. “We’ll take a look at everything. I’ll push my hands inside of you, squeezing your precious insides. You’ll be more exposed than you ever have been. It’ll be amazing, and we’ll sew you back up before the other procedure.”

Kirigiri wants to avoid that more than anything. Something in Tsumiki’s words makes her wonder- the nurse wouldn’t call a surgery a procedure, would she? Medical terminology is specific for a reason.

“The second option. We have fun together.” Tsumiki’s voice lowers and draws out into a moan. “All this action is making me- so, so wet. I’m aching for a release, Kyouko, if you’re willing to be my precious doll. You can choose.”

It’s not much of a choice. Having her stomach opened up and organs played with, or sex with Tsumiki. Kirigiri has her emotions on the back burner again, the initial fear is gone.

She tries to answer “the second,” but it sounds more like “da econt” crossed with a groan.

“Not good enough.” Tsumiki frowns. “I can do both one at a time if you want. You have to- beg- me for my body.”

Kirigiri can’t speak. She just nods slightly and Tsumiki responds by pulling the damned bloodied scalpel from a nearby tray. She sets the silver edge against Kirigiri’s filthy skin.

“Beg me, bitch.” she growls, personality changed in a second. The scalpel presses threateningly into flesh, surrounded by an increasingly painful burning sensation.

“Plea-” is all Kirigiri can get out. Tears well up in her eyes, spilling over into dried salty trails.

For a second she thinks Tsumiki will slit her open right then and there, but after a moment she retracts the blade.

“More specific.”

Kirigiri nods. “Plea- uck ee.”

“Please! Fuck! Me! No surgery?” Tsumiki questions, face close to Kirigiri’s.

Kirigiri can’t do anything but nod, tears dripping down her face into the pungent mixture of liquids starting to dry on her skin.

Tsumiki nods, looking a bit disappointed. “We’ll open you up another time, Kyouko. We can have fun instead.”

Kirigiri is preparing herself, and it’s not that hard. Get her mind somewhere else. It’s starting to seem tamer and safer. She’s in control of herself. Her skin is painfully burning but she’s in control of her mind.

Tsumiki smiles disorientedly wide. “I have just the thing for this. Would you believe it, I have something amazing for you. An amazing drug that will loosen up your tight, tight body.”

She attaches something else to the IV, frustratingly out of Kirigiri’s vision. It doesn’t knock her out or anything immediately but she tries to find something different. Nothing seems changed.

Tsumiki snaps her gloves, bringing her protected hands to Kirigiri’s naked stomach. She rubs at Kirigiri’s hips, the crease between hip bone and stomach, hands lubricated with vomit, acid, sickly sweet liquid.

“Am I pretty, Kyouko? Am I- sexy?” Tsumiki asks, eyes wide. “Am I- mesmerizing?”

Kirigiri just stares at her in mute horror.

Tsumiki’s hands move up, caressing Kirigiri’s breasts and sides. Her fingers brush over nipples, light and very wet. “I used to think I was as disgusting as you, maybe even worse, but she said I’m not. She said I’m better than beautiful- I’m powerful. I’m more powerful than you, Kyouko.”

Kirigiri tries not to react to any of it. Her mouth feels wet, saliva pooling in the crevices between teeth and lips.

Tsumiki brushes her thumbs over Kirigiri’s nipples, slick against coated skin. “I want to have so much fun with you.”

Slowly, Tsumiki picks up her shirt that Kirigiri spit on before. She dips it between Kirigiri’s legs, cleaning her genitals poorly but easing the burning there. She drops the shirt back on the ground after cleaning the mess from under Kirigiri’s ass.

Kirigiri closes her eyes when Tsumiki leaves her line of sight to get something. Her body feels hot, and- restless. Very restless and tingly. The heat collects in her lips, across her chest, her genitals. Is it just the burning of stomach acid on her skin?

“I’ll tell you a secret, Kyouko.” Tsumiki whispers, looking excited and back in Kirigiri’s line of vision. “This really turns- me- on! I’m so wet and I can’t wait for you to see.”

Kirigiri’s body is so hot, and saliva is collecting at the corners of her mouth. She realizes too late, mind dulled by this new drug, that it must be some form of an aphrodisiac. Shit.

Tsumiki’s wet gloves are cold now, mess coating them joining again with the mess on Kirigiri’s body. Tsumiki has stripped down to her bra and underwear only, and straddles Kirigiri’s hips loosely.

The touch is disgusting. The touch is blissful relief for an increasingly agonizing need for contact, stimulation. Kirigiri cries out when gloved fingers flick over her erect nipples, saliva running down her chin and collecting under it. She’s never been this turned on in her life. She’s never been in pain this widespread in her life.

Tsumiki leans over, their bodies making squishy noises upon contact. Her tongue brushes Kirigiri’s, her saliva mixing with the other girl’s. Tsumiki is a mess, practically spitting into Kirigiri’s mouth.

God, her body is aching. She would be grinding Tsumiki if she could move, seeking any relief for the intense restlessness. Her vagina is unbearably hot and taking up all her mental space right now.

“You begged for it and you’re still begging.” Tsumiki licks Kirigiri up from her jaw to the corner of her eye, tongue dripping with spit. “You’re gross.”

Kirigiri’s eyes are wet with tears, she’s in agony over these sensations. “Please fuck me.”

She tries to say this, but it’s a moan. It’s a moan Tsumiki understands.

Her hands drop to Kirigiri’s breasts, digging fingers into the place where soft flesh meets ribcage. One breast in each hand, Tsumiki tugs, squeezes tightly, manipulates in every direction. It’s painful and Kirigiri cries out several times. She feels like her tissue is being ripped apart, loosened at every bond. Tsumiki doesn’t let up with the cries, but continues roughly grabbing Kirigiri, swirling her breasts like bread dough.

She pulls again, squeezing her fingers together, tugging and twisting again and again. She releases sharply, earning another cry of pain from Kirigiri, before switching inwards to torture nipples.

This is more pleasurable but no less painful. She alternates pinching, twisting, and rapid brushes over the buds that mix cries of pain with cries of pleasure. Kirigiri’s skin is burning, the smell fills her nostrils and turns her stomach.

Saliva drips onto her neck and chest.

Tsumiki pinches- hard- and yanks upwards with Kirigiri’s nipples, and Kirigiri swears they feel ready to rip off. They just stretch, though. A dozen minutes of rough play and her nipples can stretch a solid inch. Her breasts aren’t large to begin with, B cup, but Tsumiki pulls them up farther than they’ve ever stretched.

Again she releases too fast. Kirigiri thinks she’s never been wetter, vagina aching and demanding so much attention, she can’t focus. She only whimpers against her oral spreader.

“You want something? Something down there?” Tsumiki asks innocently. “You have to earn it, bitch.”

Kirigiri nods. She needs this pain gone. She needs out of this agony.

Tsumiki eases herself out of vomit-covered underwear, undoing her bra as well and dropping them both with the rest of her clothes. The bed drops, the angle gone as Kirigiri’s view changes to only that of the ceiling until Tsumiki moves.

Her breasts hang freely in Kirigiri’s face, who immediately understands what to do. Her tongue stretches up, and Tsumiki manipulates her breast inside the waiting mouth.

It’s so much harder to breath, and Kirigiri can’t bite down on the surprisingly large amount of Tsumiki’s breast shoved into her mouth. Instead, she uses her tongue, feeling the curve of Tsumiki’s ass on her chest.

Her nipples and breasts taste slightly of vomit but Kirigiri works too frantically to pay much attention. Tsumiki arches her back, mewling, switching one breast for the other several times. Kirigiri’s tongue is so, so tired, but her body is burning and unbearably restless.

It might be minutes that she stimulates Tsumiki, but it feels like hours. She can’t tell, the only way to mark time is with Tsumiki’s movements.

She moves up, knees on either side of Kirigiri’s face. Her thighs smell sickly sweet and like sour stomach contents, but Kirigiri ignores that as Tsumiki lowers herself over Kirigiri’s mouth.

Her tongue aches, but she gets it as wet as possible before running it down Tsumiki’s slit. Tsumiki’s cries are high-pitched, shamelessly loud, and Kirigiri just wants her to finish as soon as possible.

She tastes sour, her juices everywhere and mixing with saliva. Her arousal rubs against Kirigiri’s cheeks as she moves to increase her pleasure, disgusting gloved hands pulling at Kirigiri’s hair. Profanities sound unnatural in a high pitched, breathy voice.

Kirigiri is so painfully aroused, and moves her tongue with a frenzied passion, closing her eyes to everything but the basic sensations. She’s a tongue, burning tits, agonizingly restless wet vagina.

Tsumiki’s sour and Kirigiri wants to gag when she comes, a surprising amount of cum entering her mouth. She shows no signs of moving, so Kirigiri keeps dipping her tongue inside Tsumiki’s vaginal opening, frantically circling and flicking her clit.

Tsumiki cums again, and again, and again. Kirigiri stops counting, the contents of her mouth more cum than saliva. There’s no way to tell how long it is before Tsumiki eases herself off, removing gloves and dropping them on either side of Kirigiri’s face.

Kirigiri cries out from just a light touch to her genitals, Tsumiki’s naked ass visible if she looks down from the ceiling.

“What a fucking disgusting sight.” Tsumiki says, running her fingers between the folds of Kirigiri’s vagina. “You smell revolting. You look gross.”

Kirigiri’s mouth is unbelievably tired and hurts more than anything else right now. It’s pure, blissful relief when Tsumiki brushes against her clit, flicking the ciit back and forth. Kirigiri jerks with every flick, it’s painful but it’s so good, she’s lost in agonizing ecstasy. Burning on her skin forgotten, she’s reduced to a dripping, excruciating  vagina.  

Tsumiki slips a finger inside without warning, pushing hard against Kirigiri’s walls. She slips a second inside relatively easily, but then tries for a third she has to force in.

It’s painful. It’s very painful but Kirigiri doesn’t care. The pink comes in as well, and only Tsumiki’s thumb is left to torment Kirigiri’s clit while the other fingers wiggle inside and push against everything.

Kirigiri cums, body shaking uncontrollably, and it’s unbearably painful for a long few seconds. Tsumiki continues, slipping her thumb inside and using the other hand to continue jerking the clit.

Kirigiri feels so- full, but it’s so painful. Tsumiki never stays still, and Kirigiri cums twice more before blacking out.

Kirigiri is conscious, later, of her body being cleaned. She’s conscious of her hair being parted, of her skin being cut, skull drilled though. She’s still paralyzed when something enters her brain, an incredibly important place she has no sensation in.

Her memories seem to leak out with the needle being removed. She tries to hold onto them- names, faces, her past- but they slip away so fast that she can’t remember what she was supposed to be grabbing.

She lays there, dazed and alone, as a blonde shadow passes over her naked body.

 

Kyouko Kirigiri shows up for her first day at Hope’s Peak Academy with blisters healing on her chest and stomach, split lip healing, cut in her scalp on its way to disappearing. She shows up with strange symbols carved into the backs of the hands she’ll never show anyone- a circle on the left, a- lightening bolt?- on the right.

She was in an accident a few weeks ago, she tells herself. How? When? What happened?

What’s her talent, again?

She matches the symbols on her hands with Monokuma’s eyes later.

**Author's Note:**

> Shrugs-we needed more fucked up femslash


End file.
